Frozen Negotiations

Chapter Five

The promise in his words was a physical force. Iris felt unmoored, adrift in a dark sea of pure sensation. His fingers were still deep inside her, a claiming pressure that made her throb.

“Stand up,” Grayson commanded, his voice rough. His hand left her body, the sudden absence making her whimper. He guided her to her feet, turning her to face him in the blackness. “Now, undress for me. All of it.”

His tone brooked no argument, but a flicker of her shyness resurfaced. Doing this in the pitch dark felt safe, but being observed, even unseen, as she bared herself was different. She hesitated, her fingers trembling as they went to the hem of her sweater.

“Iris,” he said, the single word a low rumble. “Now.”

That dominant push was all she needed. The playful submission won. She pulled the sweater over her head, the cold air biting her skin before his gaze could. She heard his sharp intake of breath. Her jeans and panties followed, pushed down her hips until she could step out of them. She stood before him, completely bare, her skin pebbling in the cold, her heart hammering against her ribs.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, his voice thick with awe. “Come here. Your reward.”

He pulled her back onto his lap, but this time she straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips on the wide chair. The rough fabric of his jeans scraped her inner thighs. He was fully clothed, a stark contrast to her nakedness, and the power dynamic sent a fresh thrill through her.

His hands settled on her waist, holding her steady. Then one hand slid down, his fingers finding her wet heat without hesitation.

“You obeyed so well,” he murmured, his thumb circling her c**t with a firm, perfect pressure. “Such a good girl for me. This is what you get.”

His touch was masterful, a relentless, focused rhythm that bypassed all thought. He wasn’t teasing; he was delivering on a promise. The coiled tension in her belly snapped almost immediately.

“Grayson!” she cried out, her back arching as the first orgasm ripped through her. It was sharp and bright, a silent scream in the dark. He didn’t stop. He kept his thumb moving, the pressure unyielding, dragging the pleasure out, refusing to let her come down.

“Again,” he growled, his other hand tangling in her hair, pulling her head back. “Give me another one. Let me hear it.”

Sensation piled upon sensation, an overwhelming cascade. She was so sensitive, every stroke a lightning strike. A second, deeper wave gathered and broke, wracking her body with silent tremors. She sobbed, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“I can’t… it’s too much…”

“You can,” he insisted, his voice a dark anchor. His thumb pressed harder, faster. “You will. One more. For me.”

The third climax was a revelation, a full-body surrender that felt like falling. It washed over her in a slow, warm flood, leaving her boneless and trembling. Only then did his hand still, resting possessively over her, absorbing the aftershocks.

She collapsed against his chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He held her there, one hand stroking her hair, the other still cupping her heat. The generator’s hum was the only other sound.

“The noise is gone,” she whispered into his shirt, dazed.

“For now,” he said, his lips against her temple. “The silence is mine to give. And to take away.” He shifted beneath her, his own arousal a hard, urgent pressure against her thigh. “My turn.”